These last two games are a vivid demonstration that Manny by himself isn't going to turn the Dodgers into a good team, now matter how well he plays. I guess I knew that all along, but I was willing to pretend otherwise after the split with the Snakes last weekend. In the wake of Manny-mania I was eager to ignore the sober math that he is only likely to improve the Dodger win total by a modest one or two in his two months with the team. I put my faith in momentum and psychology. He will make everyone better, I thought. No, I felt it. There was no thinking. I might as well have put my faith in magic.
Manny doesn't make the weaknesses of this 0.500 team go away. He got on base four times Tuesday, but was only driven in once. The lineup has too many holes in it, still. That could change, if Furcal came back at full health, and Kent started hitting again, and Pierre and Jones were both permanently exiled to the bench. I don't think it's an awful offense now, and Manny truly does make it better, but he can't do it all. He can't hit a home run every game.
Manny did hit a home run Wednesday, and drove in another run with a two-out single, and for the brief time when the Dodgers led 3-1 I thought that Manny hitting a home run was a sign that the Dodgers would win. But the starting pitching is still awful on the road. Lowe quickly turned the 3-1 lead into a 3-7 deficit. Billingsley is the only functional starter the Dodgers have away from home, and he ran into his own personal kryptonite, the rain delay, in his shortened start Tuesday. The Dodgers have a lot of road games left, against some very tough teams. If they don't start getting more solid starting performances they aren't going to catch the Snakes.
Maybe the Dodgers just have to take their usual lumps in St. Louis and move on. They're still only 2.5 games out. Nevertheless I feel the season slipping away. The Dodgers margin for error is narrowing. If the Dodgers keep struggling on the road then their only hope will be to sweep the Snakes when they play again.
07 August 2008
03 August 2008
No, not again.
The split feels more like a series victory because the Dodgers lost the first two games and rallied for the last two. It feels like a victory because of the grim possible future they were facing before Saturday night's game. A sweep would have been near devastating for the Dodgers chances this year, even with Manny the rest of the way. Though my first year as a Dodger fan in 1983 conditioned me to think 5 games back isn't that much, it really is, even with two full months to go.
That game last night was more dramatic at the end than it needed to be. Where was Broxton? We know now --- just a tired arm, nothing to be worried about. ( I hope. ) But last night it was a mystery, and fed into the late game worries. Is Broxton okay? Can the other relievers get the job done? I was terrified when Park came in with the tying run at the plate. I was thinking about the home run he gave up Friday, and all the home runs he gave up when he was with the Rangers, back when they called him "out of the Park", and I was thinking isn't he really, honestly, the same home run prone pitcher he was last year and the year before and the year before? And facing Chris Young, who hit 30 home runs last year? But in this series Chris Young has hit more like his name-mate in San Diego and less like the promising young hitter everyone thought he was and he merely grounded out to third and the cloud lifted and it was safe to be a Dodger fan again.
By rights the game last night should have been over when Manny hit his home run in the first inning. It was the emotional peak of the game, when despair was unwound and Manny truly welcomed to the Blue. Of course they will play all nine innings even after a dramatic fear-destroying curtain-call home run in the first inning. The Dodgers needed good Kuroda to show up, and he did, keeping the ball down in the strike zone and avoiding walks. That's good advice for any pitcher, isn't it? Except softball pitchers, perhaps. They seem to thrive on throwing the riseball.
Not only does Manny hit more home runs than any Dodger but he hits them farther than any Dodger. I think that's my favorite part of watching him hit. He's ferocious. The Dodgers haven't approached having a hitter this good since Sheffield left. But Sheff was never loved the way Manny is already loved. It's almost like having Piazza back.
For today's game the Dodgers didn't really need Manny to win, so rotten was Doug Davis' pitching. So much for that great ERA against the Dodgers. But Manny made the game more fun, going 4-5 and eliciting cheers even when he struck out in his one batting blemish. Vinny made the game more fun as well, as he does every game. But today, especially, he was in fine voice. There are some days when he really turns his inner scamp loose. That accent he pulled when he was talking about the Trolley Dodgers in Brooklyn was a delight.
Time to take the Manny show on the road. This is a new team, a better team. Even if Torre insists on sitting Ethier it's a better team. That 1-8 record in St. Louis doesn't mean anything. Let's see what they've got.
That game last night was more dramatic at the end than it needed to be. Where was Broxton? We know now --- just a tired arm, nothing to be worried about. ( I hope. ) But last night it was a mystery, and fed into the late game worries. Is Broxton okay? Can the other relievers get the job done? I was terrified when Park came in with the tying run at the plate. I was thinking about the home run he gave up Friday, and all the home runs he gave up when he was with the Rangers, back when they called him "out of the Park", and I was thinking isn't he really, honestly, the same home run prone pitcher he was last year and the year before and the year before? And facing Chris Young, who hit 30 home runs last year? But in this series Chris Young has hit more like his name-mate in San Diego and less like the promising young hitter everyone thought he was and he merely grounded out to third and the cloud lifted and it was safe to be a Dodger fan again.
By rights the game last night should have been over when Manny hit his home run in the first inning. It was the emotional peak of the game, when despair was unwound and Manny truly welcomed to the Blue. Of course they will play all nine innings even after a dramatic fear-destroying curtain-call home run in the first inning. The Dodgers needed good Kuroda to show up, and he did, keeping the ball down in the strike zone and avoiding walks. That's good advice for any pitcher, isn't it? Except softball pitchers, perhaps. They seem to thrive on throwing the riseball.
Not only does Manny hit more home runs than any Dodger but he hits them farther than any Dodger. I think that's my favorite part of watching him hit. He's ferocious. The Dodgers haven't approached having a hitter this good since Sheffield left. But Sheff was never loved the way Manny is already loved. It's almost like having Piazza back.
For today's game the Dodgers didn't really need Manny to win, so rotten was Doug Davis' pitching. So much for that great ERA against the Dodgers. But Manny made the game more fun, going 4-5 and eliciting cheers even when he struck out in his one batting blemish. Vinny made the game more fun as well, as he does every game. But today, especially, he was in fine voice. There are some days when he really turns his inner scamp loose. That accent he pulled when he was talking about the Trolley Dodgers in Brooklyn was a delight.
Time to take the Manny show on the road. This is a new team, a better team. Even if Torre insists on sitting Ethier it's a better team. That 1-8 record in St. Louis doesn't mean anything. Let's see what they've got.
02 August 2008
Not Again
It's happening again. Just like last year, the Snakes come into Dodger Stadium right at the end of July and destroy the Dodger season. The sweep seems inevitable. It's not about which team is better, not in the theoretical season-long sense of being the better team. The Snakes may well be better than the Dodgers, but that's not why the nightmare sweep is halfway to being reality. The truth is there is no reason. The games are played, with very narrow margins, and the Snakes come out ahead by one run. The reason for it is any fuzzy concept you choose as your favorite, any narrative angle you care to take. Those Snakes have character-filled young players; the Dodger have coddled young players. No, that worked better last year. I'm sure the writers will come up with something new this year, unless they are bigger hacks than I thought.
The two games we've had so far were identical in line scores, in frustrations, if not in drama. I knew by instinct that the games were twins, even before Friday's top of the seventh happened. At least on Friday the starter was already out of the game by the top of the seventh. No tired starter last night. Instead one of the Dodgers great relievers would come in and put a stop to the parallel madness. This I desperately hoped. But it was Park who came in. I had finally become a Park believer after four months of him proving me wrong, and he went and proved me right, retroactively. If only for one game. But it was the most important game of the year. Park showed who he really was for just one game. That's all it takes.
After Beimel gave up the hit I retreated to a position far from the television. The game was over. The season was over. There was pain left to dish out, more innings and more games of the Dodgers spinning their wheels, showing occasional flashes of promise but always coming up short, but the ending was set last night when the hit off Beimel landed on the line. At that moment I knew that the Dodgers would go on to lose the game, and get swept in the series, and finish out of the playoffs. Logic, of course, has nothing to do with it, because logically it's nonsense. But emotional investments carry risks. I invest in the season, in the possiblity, and the risk is that I give up hope, that I declare permanent misery.
I emerged from my bitter retreat in time to see Wade get the last out of the top of the seventh. I can give up all hope for a moment, a minute, a half inning, but never forever. It's a war in my mind, a struggle between despair and foolishness. So I watched the rest of the game. I mean, I don't know everything. Maybe I'm wrong about the game, the season, being over. So it went, the outs passing by, the Dodgers never scoring another run, my hope for the game and the series and the season fading with each out. Someone just hit a damn home run. Tony Clark did. The Snakes' acquisition came through. The Dodgers' acquisition didn't. Now there is an appalling, bitter thought.
By the bottom of the ninth I was sullen and bitter, mentally a petulant, crabby child. When Martin took the first two pitches I was so disgusted. Those were fine pitches to hit. Instead he took them, with some stupid idea of getting deep into the count. I thought he was being cute. Then, how quickly I came around, when the next three pitches were balls. Suddenly I was Martin's best friend again. Way to work the count, I might have said to him, with an insincere grin. I believed in him again, but like any fickle-minded traitor I was ready to turn on him again if he made an out from that position. I was saved from that by his hit up the middle. But that hit delivered me to an altogether worse fate. I believed again. I believed in the Dodger's chance of winning the game, the series, the season again. Once wasn't enough. Those bastards had to make me feel the defeat twice, rip out my hopes twice.
Before the first pitch to Manny I was floating on the possibilities. Home run, sure. But a double or single might also happen. He might make an out as well, maybe strike out or something, but I didn't think too much about that. After the first strike to Manny I began to worry. I swayed from hope to despair with the count. After ball one I was confident again. 1-1, which is basically even ground, except the batter has the advantage of having seen a few pitches. And that's when it happened.
The crowd was chanting. I can't even remember the exact words now. Something like "Let's Go Dodgers", something suitably generic and cheerleaderly. But the energy and passion and hope of the chant was incredible. For the first time I wished I was there, at the game, in that moment, pouring my heart into the hope that Manny would hit a home run. Even if they lost it would be worth it just to be a part of that moment. That's what I thought. And I guess I still think that. Even through the TV I could feel that it was comparable to the aftermath of the Lima game, or the last great moment of the Tomato when he beat the Jays with a game-ending home run. I was there for both of those, and I wished that I had been there for that first moment of anticipating the greatness of Manny.
The next pitch came, ball two. 2-1. But the moment had passed. The crowd was still excited, and cheering, but it wasn't the same. No matter. Such a thing can't be sustained. The important thing was that Manny now controlled the at bat. The tide had turned. I wonder, at that moment, how afraid Snakes fans were? They can look back now and laugh about it, those jerks.
When strike two came I had the cold realization that this might not all end well. I was really worried about the strikeout at that point. I didn't think Kent and Loney could get Martin all the way around to score by themselves. Maybe one of them could single, but --- I just didn't believe. All my hope was tied up in Manny. The crazy thing of it is I never saw the double play coming. Even with all my despair and giving up on the game and the season I never contemplated Manny's at bat ending that way.
I'm really wishing and hoping I can just stay away from tonight's game. Not watch it, not think about it. Maybe find out tomorrow morning the Dodgers won. Wouldn't that be a nice surprise. But I know I'll think about it. That's the problem. Thinking about it will draw me to it, even though I think I know what's going to happen. Because I also know, deep down, that I don't know what will happen. I don't know anything.
The two games we've had so far were identical in line scores, in frustrations, if not in drama. I knew by instinct that the games were twins, even before Friday's top of the seventh happened. At least on Friday the starter was already out of the game by the top of the seventh. No tired starter last night. Instead one of the Dodgers great relievers would come in and put a stop to the parallel madness. This I desperately hoped. But it was Park who came in. I had finally become a Park believer after four months of him proving me wrong, and he went and proved me right, retroactively. If only for one game. But it was the most important game of the year. Park showed who he really was for just one game. That's all it takes.
After Beimel gave up the hit I retreated to a position far from the television. The game was over. The season was over. There was pain left to dish out, more innings and more games of the Dodgers spinning their wheels, showing occasional flashes of promise but always coming up short, but the ending was set last night when the hit off Beimel landed on the line. At that moment I knew that the Dodgers would go on to lose the game, and get swept in the series, and finish out of the playoffs. Logic, of course, has nothing to do with it, because logically it's nonsense. But emotional investments carry risks. I invest in the season, in the possiblity, and the risk is that I give up hope, that I declare permanent misery.
I emerged from my bitter retreat in time to see Wade get the last out of the top of the seventh. I can give up all hope for a moment, a minute, a half inning, but never forever. It's a war in my mind, a struggle between despair and foolishness. So I watched the rest of the game. I mean, I don't know everything. Maybe I'm wrong about the game, the season, being over. So it went, the outs passing by, the Dodgers never scoring another run, my hope for the game and the series and the season fading with each out. Someone just hit a damn home run. Tony Clark did. The Snakes' acquisition came through. The Dodgers' acquisition didn't. Now there is an appalling, bitter thought.
By the bottom of the ninth I was sullen and bitter, mentally a petulant, crabby child. When Martin took the first two pitches I was so disgusted. Those were fine pitches to hit. Instead he took them, with some stupid idea of getting deep into the count. I thought he was being cute. Then, how quickly I came around, when the next three pitches were balls. Suddenly I was Martin's best friend again. Way to work the count, I might have said to him, with an insincere grin. I believed in him again, but like any fickle-minded traitor I was ready to turn on him again if he made an out from that position. I was saved from that by his hit up the middle. But that hit delivered me to an altogether worse fate. I believed again. I believed in the Dodger's chance of winning the game, the series, the season again. Once wasn't enough. Those bastards had to make me feel the defeat twice, rip out my hopes twice.
Before the first pitch to Manny I was floating on the possibilities. Home run, sure. But a double or single might also happen. He might make an out as well, maybe strike out or something, but I didn't think too much about that. After the first strike to Manny I began to worry. I swayed from hope to despair with the count. After ball one I was confident again. 1-1, which is basically even ground, except the batter has the advantage of having seen a few pitches. And that's when it happened.
The crowd was chanting. I can't even remember the exact words now. Something like "Let's Go Dodgers", something suitably generic and cheerleaderly. But the energy and passion and hope of the chant was incredible. For the first time I wished I was there, at the game, in that moment, pouring my heart into the hope that Manny would hit a home run. Even if they lost it would be worth it just to be a part of that moment. That's what I thought. And I guess I still think that. Even through the TV I could feel that it was comparable to the aftermath of the Lima game, or the last great moment of the Tomato when he beat the Jays with a game-ending home run. I was there for both of those, and I wished that I had been there for that first moment of anticipating the greatness of Manny.
The next pitch came, ball two. 2-1. But the moment had passed. The crowd was still excited, and cheering, but it wasn't the same. No matter. Such a thing can't be sustained. The important thing was that Manny now controlled the at bat. The tide had turned. I wonder, at that moment, how afraid Snakes fans were? They can look back now and laugh about it, those jerks.
When strike two came I had the cold realization that this might not all end well. I was really worried about the strikeout at that point. I didn't think Kent and Loney could get Martin all the way around to score by themselves. Maybe one of them could single, but --- I just didn't believe. All my hope was tied up in Manny. The crazy thing of it is I never saw the double play coming. Even with all my despair and giving up on the game and the season I never contemplated Manny's at bat ending that way.
I'm really wishing and hoping I can just stay away from tonight's game. Not watch it, not think about it. Maybe find out tomorrow morning the Dodgers won. Wouldn't that be a nice surprise. But I know I'll think about it. That's the problem. Thinking about it will draw me to it, even though I think I know what's going to happen. Because I also know, deep down, that I don't know what will happen. I don't know anything.
31 July 2008
My Reaction is Giddiness
I loved the potential of Andy LaRoche. I thought he was going to be special, and I wanted him to be a Dodger for the productive years of his career. But I resigned myself to losing him weeks ago. For whatever reason the Dodgers picked Blake DeWitt over LaRoche as the third baseman of the future, and they trusted neither for down the stretch, instead acquiring Casey Blake. So my reaction at the Dodgers trading away LaRoche is merely a muted sadness, a passing sorrow. Andy, I mourned for thee already. Best of luck with your new organization.
I am aware of all the negatives Manny brings. The bad defense, the bad attitude, the filthy filthy helmet. But it's MANNY. The Dodgers have Manny Ramirez. I can only feel stunned and mostly happy and about that. I'm crazy curious to see how the likely brief Manny era treats the Dodgers. I can't wait to see him in Dodger Blue. I can't wait to hear his first crazy quotes as a Dodger. Surely the inevitable "era of good feelings" that will begin between Manny and his new non-Sox team can last for three months? Yes, three full months, all the way to the end of October? Yes?
And, may I say, well done Ned Colletti. I don't approve of the decision to give up on LaRoche, but once that decision is made, well, this is the best possible return imaginable for LaRoche, isn't it? All this time I thought LaRoche would be traded for some reliever, or at best a middling shortstop. Instead they only get a superstar hitter!
I am aware of all the negatives Manny brings. The bad defense, the bad attitude, the filthy filthy helmet. But it's MANNY. The Dodgers have Manny Ramirez. I can only feel stunned and mostly happy and about that. I'm crazy curious to see how the likely brief Manny era treats the Dodgers. I can't wait to see him in Dodger Blue. I can't wait to hear his first crazy quotes as a Dodger. Surely the inevitable "era of good feelings" that will begin between Manny and his new non-Sox team can last for three months? Yes, three full months, all the way to the end of October? Yes?
And, may I say, well done Ned Colletti. I don't approve of the decision to give up on LaRoche, but once that decision is made, well, this is the best possible return imaginable for LaRoche, isn't it? All this time I thought LaRoche would be traded for some reliever, or at best a middling shortstop. Instead they only get a superstar hitter!
Srooc Field
Below is a modest presentation of average runs the Dodgers have scored and allowed this season home and away, along with the pythagorean winning percentages based on the home and away run differentials.
------ Dodgers -- Opp -- PythWP
Home -- 3.9 -- 3.1 -- 0.605
Away -- 4.5 -- 4.9 -- 0.457
The Dodgers have been a far better team at home, and most of that is due to a huge home/road disparity in the Dodger pitching. Last night's win was the tenth shutout for the Dodger pitching staff. All ten have come at home.
The Dodger relievers do well on the road. Park, Kuo, Broxton, Saito, Wade and Beimel all have sub-4 ERAs on the road. The starters are the ones who fall down when pitching in strange ballparks. Kershaw, Penny, Lowe and Kuroda all have ERAs above 5 on the road. Only ace Billingsley does well away from Dodger Stadium, with a sparkling 2.84 ERA that's even better than his home ERA.
At home, nearly every Dodger pitcher does well, except for two pitchers who have battled injuries this year, Penny and Proctor. Billingsley, Kershaw and Kuroda are all in the 3-3.6 ERA range, and everyone else has an ERA below 3.
What is going on here? Why is the Dodger pitching so much better at home? Is it park factors? The Dodger offense also benefits from being on the road, though the disparity is not as severe as it is for the pitching. There was a time when Dodger Stadium was the most extreme pitchers' park in the major leagues. But that was before all the new dugout seats were put in and the foul territory was cut almost in half. Lately Dodger stadium has played neutral, or even as a slight hitters park! But just based on this year's numbers Dodger Stadium is looking like the most extreme pitchers' park around. What could have changed this year?
I don't know. I can't even come up with any half-baked theories. Are they microwaving the baseballs to deaden them? Is the mound a little too high? Is the air heavier this year? Is the grass different this year? Maybe it's just --- random.
------ Dodgers -- Opp -- PythWP
Home -- 3.9 -- 3.1 -- 0.605
Away -- 4.5 -- 4.9 -- 0.457
The Dodgers have been a far better team at home, and most of that is due to a huge home/road disparity in the Dodger pitching. Last night's win was the tenth shutout for the Dodger pitching staff. All ten have come at home.
The Dodger relievers do well on the road. Park, Kuo, Broxton, Saito, Wade and Beimel all have sub-4 ERAs on the road. The starters are the ones who fall down when pitching in strange ballparks. Kershaw, Penny, Lowe and Kuroda all have ERAs above 5 on the road. Only ace Billingsley does well away from Dodger Stadium, with a sparkling 2.84 ERA that's even better than his home ERA.
At home, nearly every Dodger pitcher does well, except for two pitchers who have battled injuries this year, Penny and Proctor. Billingsley, Kershaw and Kuroda are all in the 3-3.6 ERA range, and everyone else has an ERA below 3.
What is going on here? Why is the Dodger pitching so much better at home? Is it park factors? The Dodger offense also benefits from being on the road, though the disparity is not as severe as it is for the pitching. There was a time when Dodger Stadium was the most extreme pitchers' park in the major leagues. But that was before all the new dugout seats were put in and the foul territory was cut almost in half. Lately Dodger stadium has played neutral, or even as a slight hitters park! But just based on this year's numbers Dodger Stadium is looking like the most extreme pitchers' park around. What could have changed this year?
I don't know. I can't even come up with any half-baked theories. Are they microwaving the baseballs to deaden them? Is the mound a little too high? Is the air heavier this year? Is the grass different this year? Maybe it's just --- random.
29 July 2008
This loss belongs to K
There are two plays that eat me up about the fourth inning of last night's 7-6 Dodger loss, and neither one is the ill fated fielder's choice off the come-backer. That play, when Kuroda didn't hear Martin's directive to throw to first, resulted in the bases being loaded with one out. It was a breakdown in communication, but not an exposure of weakness. I'm not worried about a play like that happening again this season. It's a freak play; the communication is usually there.
I am worried about Jeff Kent's range. His failure to snare a ball hit up the middle last night was not surprising and did not reveal anything new about Kent's defense. That ball can only be described as being hit up the middle because it got through, more properly it would be described as being hit to Kent's right, a likely double play ball. I suppose I should be fair: to get to that ball and start the double play, or at least get one out somewhere, would require a good play. But most major league second basemen will make the good plays consistently.
Kent's defensive failure was a reminder of just how damaging bad defense can be. I tend to think of bad defense by the Dodgers as a minor flaw in an otherwise harmless inning, or as a minor irritant that let in an extra run. In other words, I expect the pitcher to always compensate for bad defense. When the error is made, or an expected out is botched into a gift hit, just get the next guy. If one hitter could be induced into hitting a ball that should have been an out, then surely the next batter can be similarly induced, with the expectation that this time the defenders will record the out.
But hitters can't always be induced. They can't always be made to hit the ball poorly. Sometimes they are induced to hit it poorly and it's still a hit. Sometimes everyone is safe because the pitcher didn't hear the catcher yelling to throw to first. Balls batted into fair territory always carry a risk for the defensive team. The lesson: strike them out if you can. Especially when there are already runners on base.
I am worried about Kuroda's failure to strike out the pitcher in the fourth inning last night. Kuroda has had three bad starts in a row. He's a guy who seems to either be great or awful. But his numbers point to mediocrity.
Here is a modest chart showing batters faced per strikeout for selected Dodger pitchers, as well as the major league average. A lower number is preferred, clearly.
3.3 -- Kuo
3.5 -- Broxton
4.1 -- Billingsley
5.2 -- Park
5.4 -- Kershaw
5.5 -- Wade
5.7 -- Lowe
5.8 -- Major League Average
7.3 -- Kuroda
7.5 -- Beimel
8.1 -- Penny
Relievers tend to have a strikeout advantage over starters because they don't have to worry about sticking around too long, but still, this is an impressive group of relievers the Dodgers have. Even my favorite early season whipping boy Park has an impressive strikeout ratio. Billingsley is a stud, Kershaw is solid and likely to get better, and Lowe's slightly better than average ratio works for him because of all the ground balls he induces. Penny has been hurt and ineffective and it shows in his strikeout numbers. I've given up trying to understand how Beimel can be such an elite reliever with his strikeout totals, but he does it year after year. And then there's Kuroda, holder of a sub 4 ERA for most of the year, and also holder of a pretty awful strikeout ratio.
There's more to being a pitcher than strikeouts. Still, making hitters miss, or mostly miss ( for a pop up or weak grounder ) is the most important part of it. The 1-2 pitch Kuroda gave to Correia last night was not a pitch to make a batter miss. It was up, about waist high, on the outer half of the plate. Exactly the sort of pitch that can be easily hit for a line drive the other way, even by a poor batter. That hit was the most frustrating moment of the inning for me. There's no use crying over a freak play earlier when you had a chance to escape the inning with the pitcher batting and didn't take it.
Kent and Kuroda aren't going to get any better. Kent is old and stiff and a poor defender and nothing will change that. Kuroda is old and unlikely to suddenly start striking out a lot more batters than he is right now. The Dodgers just have to live with them, and hope Kent has a few more home runs and doubles in him, and Kuroda has a few more complete game gems in him. And hope, also, that the weaknesses of Kent and Kuroda don't conspire again with some freak plays to lose any more games for the Dodgers.
I am worried about Jeff Kent's range. His failure to snare a ball hit up the middle last night was not surprising and did not reveal anything new about Kent's defense. That ball can only be described as being hit up the middle because it got through, more properly it would be described as being hit to Kent's right, a likely double play ball. I suppose I should be fair: to get to that ball and start the double play, or at least get one out somewhere, would require a good play. But most major league second basemen will make the good plays consistently.
Kent's defensive failure was a reminder of just how damaging bad defense can be. I tend to think of bad defense by the Dodgers as a minor flaw in an otherwise harmless inning, or as a minor irritant that let in an extra run. In other words, I expect the pitcher to always compensate for bad defense. When the error is made, or an expected out is botched into a gift hit, just get the next guy. If one hitter could be induced into hitting a ball that should have been an out, then surely the next batter can be similarly induced, with the expectation that this time the defenders will record the out.
But hitters can't always be induced. They can't always be made to hit the ball poorly. Sometimes they are induced to hit it poorly and it's still a hit. Sometimes everyone is safe because the pitcher didn't hear the catcher yelling to throw to first. Balls batted into fair territory always carry a risk for the defensive team. The lesson: strike them out if you can. Especially when there are already runners on base.
I am worried about Kuroda's failure to strike out the pitcher in the fourth inning last night. Kuroda has had three bad starts in a row. He's a guy who seems to either be great or awful. But his numbers point to mediocrity.
Here is a modest chart showing batters faced per strikeout for selected Dodger pitchers, as well as the major league average. A lower number is preferred, clearly.
3.3 -- Kuo
3.5 -- Broxton
4.1 -- Billingsley
5.2 -- Park
5.4 -- Kershaw
5.5 -- Wade
5.7 -- Lowe
5.8 -- Major League Average
7.3 -- Kuroda
7.5 -- Beimel
8.1 -- Penny
Relievers tend to have a strikeout advantage over starters because they don't have to worry about sticking around too long, but still, this is an impressive group of relievers the Dodgers have. Even my favorite early season whipping boy Park has an impressive strikeout ratio. Billingsley is a stud, Kershaw is solid and likely to get better, and Lowe's slightly better than average ratio works for him because of all the ground balls he induces. Penny has been hurt and ineffective and it shows in his strikeout numbers. I've given up trying to understand how Beimel can be such an elite reliever with his strikeout totals, but he does it year after year. And then there's Kuroda, holder of a sub 4 ERA for most of the year, and also holder of a pretty awful strikeout ratio.
There's more to being a pitcher than strikeouts. Still, making hitters miss, or mostly miss ( for a pop up or weak grounder ) is the most important part of it. The 1-2 pitch Kuroda gave to Correia last night was not a pitch to make a batter miss. It was up, about waist high, on the outer half of the plate. Exactly the sort of pitch that can be easily hit for a line drive the other way, even by a poor batter. That hit was the most frustrating moment of the inning for me. There's no use crying over a freak play earlier when you had a chance to escape the inning with the pitcher batting and didn't take it.
Kent and Kuroda aren't going to get any better. Kent is old and stiff and a poor defender and nothing will change that. Kuroda is old and unlikely to suddenly start striking out a lot more batters than he is right now. The Dodgers just have to live with them, and hope Kent has a few more home runs and doubles in him, and Kuroda has a few more complete game gems in him. And hope, also, that the weaknesses of Kent and Kuroda don't conspire again with some freak plays to lose any more games for the Dodgers.
25 July 2008
I wanna write
Now that I've let drift away what few readers I may have had, I return, ready to again add my small portion to the great mass of internet babble. Often called the tubes or the interwebs in joking fashion, I think rather to call the internet the babbles. There is no threshold of competence or lucidness required to make your own popping noises in the babbles. Sometimes, if you strain hard enough, you can hear a symphony amidst the cacophony of opinions and profiles and gossip and vitriol and McCain and Obama and porn. But it's mostly babbles, and I'm back to add to the noise.
I have occasionally received some words of encouragement about this nearly defunct blog, and they do mean a lot of me. Today my wife suggested I make another post here, and I opined that it was likely too late for that, and she said, "But I wanna read!" I can't argue with that. I was even moved to create the inartful title of this post from her concise demand.
We took a trip to the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains recently. It was a four day vacation only, barely long enough for the body to get used to clear air and unstressed silence before being plugged back into the working city. Er, or maybe town instead of city: that is a question of definition. I don't live in LA --- where? --- that will come later. Our own trip coincided with the Dodgers' trip to Florida. We had a lot more fun than the Dodgers did. There were no TVs or telephones or wireless babbles to distract, but I did bring a transistor --- windup! --- radio. The radio will take batteries, but I find it amusing to crank the dynamo every once in a while instead to keep it powered. This is perhaps the same kind of thinking that leads Joe Torre to start Blake DeWitt ahead of Andrew LaRoche most of the time. I get a vague feeling of grit, of doing things the right way when I crank that radio, which is what I imagine Joe Torre feels when he writes down DeWitt on the lineup card. I think in the cases of both the radio and the lineup a little more juice would be in order.
On this radio I could pick up Dodger games if I tilted the antenna and rotated the dial exactly right. The station we picked up was our hometown Dodger station, something I found astonishing given how far away it was. Our home station is 1560 KNZR Bakersfield, and we were in the mountains north of Mammoth Lakes. Sometimes the game would just drift away, replaced by mariachi music. It required an active effort to listen to the games, both in cranking the dynamo and tending to the antenna and amplitude. I'm surprised I went to the effort, given how weary I have grown of this season. I was relieved to not have to see the Dodgers on TV for more than a week, with the long four day All-Star break following our vacation. Between that break and the Dodgers recent flirtations with decent play and first place, I feel ready to commit again to the season. And to Dodgerama, I guess.
I guess the Dodgers are looking hard at trading LaRoche. That's what the babbles say, anyway. I keep thinking about that trade of Paul Konerko for Jeff Shaw during Lasorda's brief tenure as general manager. Don't give up on a stud young prospect too quickly, or Shaw enough you will get burned. Maybe twice: first for having given up too soon, and second because you have to live with the ineptitude of the player you got back in return. Jeff Shaw, I suppose, wasn't too awful, but my primary memory of him, besides Vinny always saying "Shaw enough" when he came in to pitch was that he always made me nervous, almost as nervous as "Hot Toddy" Worrell made me feel.
I think Colletti must know that LaRoche is a better choice at third than DeWitt moving forward. I figure he has to know this since LaRoche clearly has more trade value than DeWitt. Maybe I figure on too much. I can't imagine the Dodgers trading Andy for a relief pitcher, since what the team really needs is offense on the left side of the infield, and again I figure Colletti knows this. I say just plug Andy in at third the rest of the year and see what he's got.
I'm going to do the same, in a manner of speaking. I'm going to plug back into the Dodger season and see what they've got. And see what I've got, see what I can do with this decrepit, nearly defunct blog. The babbles is my oyster!
I have occasionally received some words of encouragement about this nearly defunct blog, and they do mean a lot of me. Today my wife suggested I make another post here, and I opined that it was likely too late for that, and she said, "But I wanna read!" I can't argue with that. I was even moved to create the inartful title of this post from her concise demand.
We took a trip to the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains recently. It was a four day vacation only, barely long enough for the body to get used to clear air and unstressed silence before being plugged back into the working city. Er, or maybe town instead of city: that is a question of definition. I don't live in LA --- where? --- that will come later. Our own trip coincided with the Dodgers' trip to Florida. We had a lot more fun than the Dodgers did. There were no TVs or telephones or wireless babbles to distract, but I did bring a transistor --- windup! --- radio. The radio will take batteries, but I find it amusing to crank the dynamo every once in a while instead to keep it powered. This is perhaps the same kind of thinking that leads Joe Torre to start Blake DeWitt ahead of Andrew LaRoche most of the time. I get a vague feeling of grit, of doing things the right way when I crank that radio, which is what I imagine Joe Torre feels when he writes down DeWitt on the lineup card. I think in the cases of both the radio and the lineup a little more juice would be in order.
On this radio I could pick up Dodger games if I tilted the antenna and rotated the dial exactly right. The station we picked up was our hometown Dodger station, something I found astonishing given how far away it was. Our home station is 1560 KNZR Bakersfield, and we were in the mountains north of Mammoth Lakes. Sometimes the game would just drift away, replaced by mariachi music. It required an active effort to listen to the games, both in cranking the dynamo and tending to the antenna and amplitude. I'm surprised I went to the effort, given how weary I have grown of this season. I was relieved to not have to see the Dodgers on TV for more than a week, with the long four day All-Star break following our vacation. Between that break and the Dodgers recent flirtations with decent play and first place, I feel ready to commit again to the season. And to Dodgerama, I guess.
I guess the Dodgers are looking hard at trading LaRoche. That's what the babbles say, anyway. I keep thinking about that trade of Paul Konerko for Jeff Shaw during Lasorda's brief tenure as general manager. Don't give up on a stud young prospect too quickly, or Shaw enough you will get burned. Maybe twice: first for having given up too soon, and second because you have to live with the ineptitude of the player you got back in return. Jeff Shaw, I suppose, wasn't too awful, but my primary memory of him, besides Vinny always saying "Shaw enough" when he came in to pitch was that he always made me nervous, almost as nervous as "Hot Toddy" Worrell made me feel.
I think Colletti must know that LaRoche is a better choice at third than DeWitt moving forward. I figure he has to know this since LaRoche clearly has more trade value than DeWitt. Maybe I figure on too much. I can't imagine the Dodgers trading Andy for a relief pitcher, since what the team really needs is offense on the left side of the infield, and again I figure Colletti knows this. I say just plug Andy in at third the rest of the year and see what he's got.
I'm going to do the same, in a manner of speaking. I'm going to plug back into the Dodger season and see what they've got. And see what I've got, see what I can do with this decrepit, nearly defunct blog. The babbles is my oyster!
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